Page 90 of Truck Stop Tempest

His leg bounced incessantly. His thumb rapped a nervous beat on the table.

“Hey. Hi.” He glanced around, then leaned toward me. “Tuuli Holt?”

My stomach twisted. Throat shriveled. “Mmm…hmm.”

I looked over my shoulder. Slade was behind the counter, chatting with one of our regulars. Tango was nowhere to be found, and…Oh. Good. Andrew, one of the new security guards, was seated at the corner table, attention focused on me. I sucked in a calming breath.

“Hey, Tuuli.” He smiled. A warm, friendly smile, then offered a hand. “I’m Miguel. A friend of your brother’s.”

Every organ in my body dropped an inch. I swallowed a whimper. “Hi.”

“Hey. Listen.” He scratched his head. “I’m really sorry to hear about what happened.”

“Oh. Thanks? I’m sorry. How do you…I mean, how did you know Jonas?”

“We met in Seattle. Did some business together.”

“Oh.” Business. I could only imagine. I didn’t ask for details.

“You have a minute? If you’re busy, maybe we can talk after your shift?” Miguel’s voice was soft, kind, and carried a slight accent.

“Now is fine. Do you want a drink or anything?”

“No. Nothing. Thanks. Can you sit?”

“Sure.” I fell into the seat across from him. “Is everything okay?”

Miguel reached into his backpack, retrieved a manila envelope, and slid it across the table. “Jonas gave this to me a year ago. Said if anything ever happened to him, I was to give it to his sister, Tuuli Holt. I’m sorry it took me so long. I only heard about his passing two weeks ago. Had to do some digging to find you.”

The envelope was heavy and thick. On the front, in Jonas’s messy handwriting, was my name, and nothing else.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know.” He started to scoot out of his seat.

“Wait.” I slapped a hand on his wrist. “Where are you going?”

“Home. My job is done.”

“Your job? I’m so confused.”

He huffed, sat back down, stared out the window, then reached across the table and tapped the envelope. “Your brother wasn’t who he pretended to be.” His gaze dropped to the envelope, then bounced back to me. “Whatever is in there? He said it was imperative that you have it. That’s all I know. That’s all I can tell you. He paid me a lot of money to deliver this package, but even if he hadn’t…” His eyes slammed shut and he shook the thought away before grabbing my wrist and squeezing tight. “I owe him my life, and I could never let him down.”

Startled by his intensity, I jerked my hand away, not out of fear, or pain, but the hurt behind his eyes, the agony in his voice. Miguel then hurried out of his chair, and without glancing back, slipped through the door and into the dark night.

Rubbing my wrist, I stared at the package in my hand, vaguely aware of a commotion outside. Men’s voices. Shouting.

Jonas had spent most of his life ignoring me. Why would he do this? I flicked the corner of the envelope with my thumbnail, debating whether to open the thing immediately or wait for privacy.

The cowbell rattled.

I tugged at one corner of the seal.

Footsteps. The cowbell.

Flick. Flick. Flick. To open, or not to open?

Slade ran by, shouting, “Goddammit, Tito!”

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